


Dangerous Games

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes 'no' is just a word. It's the struggle that really matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Games

Reno bounces slightly on the balls of his feet as he makes a verbal report. Tseng scans the documents in front of him, and even asks the occasional question for clarification, but although it's certainly colourful and interspersed with seemingly irrelevant comments, it's also thorough; Reno is very good at his job, and takes it more seriously than most people know. The attitude that makes people view the redhead as a troublemaker also makes them underestimate his intelligence and drive.

But although he is listening, the tell-tale signs don't penetrate Tseng's awareness until the report is over, and Reno says, tapping his rod against shoulder, “We haven't sparred for awhile, boss. How 'bout it?”

Tseng looks at him – really looks – and takes in the twitchiness and the tension. It has been awhile. “Meet me downstairs in an hour. I have to report to the President.”

He calls down and books one of the smaller training rooms for their use before leaving to make his own report. He's not surprised to find Reno waiting for him, or that he's wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Loose, stretchy fabric. Tseng is still in his suit. He carefully removes his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair; removes his tie and shirt, placing them on the seat, neatly folded; and finally, toes off his shoes, tucking his socks inside and setting them beside the door. He's left in a white singlet and his suit pants, but that is sufficient. A Turk's suit is designed to let them move freely. He could have left it all on if he wanted to, and still attacked without any restriction of movement.

Reno waits for him at the centre of the room. Tseng stretches, loosening up his muscles, before moving to face him. He bows in a ritual obeisance that he has taught the other Turk not to skip over, because some things deserve respect; Reno follows suit. That's why he's not expecting it when Tseng attacks before he's even straightened back up, but he manages to counter it, if somewhat sloppily, and they settle into the fight.

In some ways it's fairly even, as they're both skilled fighters. Tseng has more training, but Reno spends more of his time fighting for real, while Tseng handles the business side of running the Turks. Reno prefers to use his rod in combat, rather than just his hands; while Tseng has his guns and his knives (not that most ever see them), he is more likely to resort to hand-to-hand to take down someone who gets too close. Alive is better for questioning, after all, and his hands alone can still do a lot of damage. But there are some tactics Reno won't resort to for 'just' a friendly sparring match, and then there's the reality of what is happening – what is _going_ to happen – here.

Tseng doesn't rush into it. He enjoys the opportunity to spar against someone who, like him, is just that good at what they do. It helps work off some of Reno's excess energy, and relieves no small amount of his own tension. He's cruising on the high that comes from endorphins and adrenaline, because for all that this is a game, it's neither a safe nor easy one. Nothing involving Reno ever could be. But finally, he decides it's time.

He kicks it up a notch, changing tactics, and for just a few seconds, Reno is caught off-guard. It's enough of an opening, and Tseng launches his attack, going in hard and fast. Reno's still reeling when he takes him down with another hard blow to the leg, hand grabbing one wrist and twisting it up behind him as he shoves Reno face down into the mat.

“You've not been training enough,” Tseng says, only slightly winded. “You left far too many openings. It's either carelessness, or recklessness, and either one will get you killed, Reno.”

“Yeah?” Reno's words are muffled, but there's no mistaking the challenge in his voice. “What are you going to do about it?”

Tseng pushes the arm a little higher, hears the hiss of pain. His other hand is busy, undoing his belt. “Experience is the best teacher of all, Reno. Actions have consequences; now, you must deal with them.” This, at least, he is quite serious about. He will not allow Reno's issues to cost him one of his best Turks; in the field, real carelessness could kill. Reno's normal attitude is deceptive, but when he's like this, he takes too many chances. That's why Tseng does this.

Having freed himself, his hand goes to the loose waistband of Reno's sweatpants. Reno tenses, swears and begins to struggle. By the time they're finished, Tseng has successfully pulled them down, and settled himself between Reno's thighs. The belt is now wrapped around the redhead's wrists, keeping his hands restrained behind his back. Tseng has a leg hooked around one of Reno's, preventing him from getting any leverage. His cock, already hard, nestles against the pale flesh of Reno's ass and further movement just nudges it deeper between fleshy cheeks. Reno's panting, harsh breaths that might have been taken for sobs under other circumstances.

“Bastard,” he curses, cheek flat against the mat. He glares back at Tseng.

Tseng reaches forward, grabs red hair, and slams his head against the mat, hard. While Reno's dazed, he grabs the foil packet from his pocket, ripping it open with his teeth. He spits the corner out, one hand pushing bound wrists higher than they really want to go. Reno lets out a pained sound, but Tseng uses the opportunity to pull away just long enough to slide latex into place.

With no real preparation and only the lubrication of the condom to ease his way, it takes several short, sharp thrusts to work his way in. Reno is tight, almost uncomfortably so, and it's been awhile since Tseng has done this, too. Beneath him, the other Turk's voice is ragged and uneven, dire threats and imprecations muttered between pained grunts. The heat, the friction, the snug grip on his cock, all tug at Tseng's self-control, and he takes a moment to catch his breath.

Tseng moves. A few more thrusts, and he can feel muscles loosening, can feel Reno's ass opening up around him. He doesn't waste time on gentleness, setting a fast, hard rhythm. The angle means he's only brushing Reno's prostate occasionally; he can tell when, because Reno's voice climbs abruptly in pitch. A particular slur catches his attention, pushes at his temper, and he leans forward. “Shut up,” he hisses in Reno's ear, the words harsh and vicious. “You know you've been asking for this, you little slut.”

Reno stiffens, and immediately denies it, the words pouring over the top of each other. Tseng chooses his own words more carefully; he's read Reno's file. Most of what lies in the other man's past is merely speculation, because a younger Reno had felt no interest in sharing details, but Tseng has come to a few conclusions of his own over the years. There are worried reports from a ShinRa psychiatrist, and terse, scribbled notes from Veld contradicting the doctor's recommendations. Tseng agrees with them, at least in part; whatever happened to Reno before he joined the Turks doesn't matter as long as he can do the job. So he keeps certain things in mind when handing out assignments and deals with trouble when it arises, because keeping Reno functioning is in the company's best interests, even if it's not in the way the company shrinks would prefer.

Reno won't ask for this, ever. He chases anything in a skirt, and a surprising number of women take him up on it despite his crudity, attracted by his outrageousness, or possibly even the danger of sleeping with a Turk. But sometimes what he really wants, what he _needs_ is a good, hard fucking. And he cannot – _will not_ – allow himself to ask for that.

Tseng's not waiting to be asked.

Occasionally, Tseng resents him for this. He doesn't want to be a part of Reno's issues. Sometimes he enjoys having Reno beneath him, struggling for freedom, enjoys taking out his frustrations on the redhead in ways that are about more than just physical pleasure, but it doesn't blind him to the dangerous temptation that offers. He does this because Reno is a Turk, and thus his responsibility; what Tseng gets out of it is irrelevant. It's an odd form of trust, because Reno wouldn't let just anyone do this. He'd hoped that having Rude for a partner would steady him a little, and it has worked - but not enough that Reno doesn't sometimes come looking for something more.

Besides, Rude is definitely straight. Tseng, on the other hand, has no real preferences one way or the other.

He pulls out amidst Reno's denials, and a sound of protest involuntarily escapes the other man. Tseng untangles their legs, and moves back onto his knees. He grips Reno's hips, lifts him back and up, and shoves back inside, harder than before. He has more leverage now and he uses it to set a blistering pace, keeping up a litany of words throughout, a stream of dirty talk and abuse that he'd never even contemplate in normal circumstances. Tseng doesn't understand why it gets the response that it does from Reno – is sure he doesn't _want_ to know – but he's a firm believer in using whatever works. Turks are all about results.

“You do want it; I can feel it in the way your ass grips my cock. So fucking tight and hot, it doesn't want to let me go. I bet you're hard, aren't you? What will I find if I reach around to grab your cock?” He refuses to admit that the words turn him on more than a little, too.

Reno moans, shifts in a way that might have allowed him to push back against Tseng if he'd had the leverage. He manages a breathy, “No,” but it's not very convincing to either of them.

And then Tseng strikes gold. “I've seen you flirting with Rufus, you know.”

For a moment, Reno goes completely still, not even breathing. Then he sags, body limp as Tseng moves inside him. “Wasn't,” he mutters, but it's a weak denial at best.

“Yes, you were.” The edge of anger to Tseng's voice is genuine. It's not like they have anything that could be termed a relationship, but there is the whole reason they're doing this: Tseng doesn't want Reno getting himself killed because he's not focused on the job. And Rufus is dangerous. Tseng's not condemning him for that – he approves wholeheartedly, and has spent some time encouraging the trait in the young executive – but Reno is a Turk, one of _his_ men. And if it comes down to a matter of conflicting loyalties... well, it wouldn't be the first time Tseng has done something he hasn't wanted to for the sake of the company. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, however reluctant.

How many Turks ever live to make it to retirement, anyway?

“You were flirting, teasing him with this tight little ass of yours. One of these days he's going to take you up on the offers you keep making, and he won't take no for an answer. He's a ShinRa, and ShinRas don't hear the word 'no'.” As a warning, it's useless, because Reno's not protesting now. He's moaning, and squirming in a way that doesn't suggest struggling at all. “He'll push you up against the wall, or bend you over his desk and fuck your ass until you can barely walk.”

Tseng grimaces as Reno clenches around him. “Or maybe he'll push you down on your knees and put that smart mouth of your to a better use. Leviathan knows there are times I've been tempted to do that. Only you won't be able to brush him off afterwards, the way you do your women. If he decides to keep you, you'd better resign yourself to life as the Vice President's fucktoy or be prepared to eat a bullet. He'll bend you over that desk of his six times a day if he wants to, and nobody, including you, will be able to tell him no.”

Tseng's eyes widen as Reno cries out, the clenching of internal muscles telling him that the redhead is coming, pushed over the edge by the dark promise Tseng's words hold. It's far sooner than he expected, but the way Reno's ass tightens around him in convulsive, rhythmic strokes pushes him higher, and he speeds up his own movements to finish with a low groan.

Tseng undoes the belt that binds Reno's wrists. He pulls out, removing the used condom with a faint grimace of distaste. There's a waste bin by the door; he disposes of it, and moves to where the rest of his clothes wait on the chair. Reno remains in the middle of the mat, collapsed forward in his knees, ass in the air. It's a sight that almost tempts him to have another go, but that would be outside the limits of their arrangement. Besides, there's something _off_ about Reno's expression, something that looks just a little bit... shaken. Instead, Tseng thinks on what just happened as he dresses.

On the one hand, he could take Reno's flirting with Rufus as a promising sign; that's he's come to some sort of acceptance of his own past, that he's finally moving on. On the other, the fact that it is _Rufus_ offers Reno just the excuse he needs; he can tell himself it's not his choice, because the Vice President really _is_ a ruthless bastard who won't take no for an answer.

Unfortunately, Tseng doesn't believe Rufus will have quite so much tolerance for Reno's bullshit. He wonders if it's worth having a talk with Rufus, instead, but that might simply be offering the ShinRa heir ammunition to use against Reno. He'll just have to hope that Reno doesn't get himself shot over something he instigated in the first place.

If nothing else, Rufus can be just as hard for him to predict as Reno. Maybe he'll find some other method for dealing with the redhead.

Maybe, faced with someone who poses a real threat to his continued denials, Reno will stop playing games.

Fixing his tie, Tseng glances back towards the mat. Reno's expression changes as quickly as if somebody flipped a switch; he stands, tugging his sweatpants back up and stretching as if he doesn't have a care in the world, before settling into his normal insouciant slouch.

Maybe not.

“I need a shower,” Reno says, and that's the only acknowledgement he gives of what has passed between them. Tseng thinks the same thing as he dons his jacket; he's sweaty, and there's a spare suit in his locker, clean and fresh. He has time before his next meeting.

But as Reno draws even with him, he reaches out a hand to halt his progress. “Reno.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I meant what I said. Be careful with Rufus.”

Reno smiles, the same lazy, insolent grin he always responds with when somebody gives him an order. “Relax, boss. I know what I'm doing.”

Tseng very much doubts that. He sighs, and follows the other man towards the locker rooms. There's no point dwelling on it; he'll deal with the inevitable trouble when it happens.

For now, there's work to be done.


End file.
